


burning bridges

by saintpyrite



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Child Neglect, Gen, Heavy Angst, Underage Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-14 20:09:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28926339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saintpyrite/pseuds/saintpyrite
Summary: Tommy visits what's left of Chekhov's Gun, Phil just happens to visit as well.
Relationships: Technoblade & Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit & Phil Watson
Comments: 10
Kudos: 298





	burning bridges

It wasn't much of a grave as it was a sealed off hole in the wall, one that would sometimes see flowers resting on the hillside against the iron barricade. 

Now it wasn't even that anymore, it was just one hole of many in one big crater. The iron gave way just as the city and stone around it had done. Even so, parts of it survived as if it was mocking history itself. The anthem held strong on broken stone, in pieces much like their beloved L'Manberg, but it survived nonetheless. 

Kicking a stray stone, Tommy looked around the remains of Chekhov's Gun. Hard to believe that this was the worst thing to have happened until recently, what with the final war on L'Manberg. He wonders how Wilbur would have handled the situation, if it would be any different than how he'd gathered the people of the land for one final battle. 

He pulled down the beanie over his head, one of the few things Wilbur had left behind that he'd managed to scavenge. Wilbur's coat was long gone, as was the cloak. Tommy didn't bring it up when he caught Fundy holding a dusty old coat he'd had hidden in a chest and he didn't speak up when he saw Niki slipping away from Phil's house in the middle of the night, torn dark fabric in her hands. They'd all been left by Wilbur, they all missed him dearly. 

Taking a seat on one of the collapsed rocks, Tommy rummaged in his pockets before finding a crumpled packet of cigarettes. He'd stolen one or two from Wilbur during war times, wanting to be just like his brother at first. Now, it was one of the few things that brought him closer to the Wilbur he used to know, the one who raised him and cared for him in equal measure. 

Lighting up, Tommy inhaled deeply as a heat filled his lungs and his nerves eased. Tomorrow, he'd be going up against Dream himself. Tomorrow, he might die. 

Smoke trailed out of his mouth, tapping the end to watch little blue embers and ash float to the ground at his feet. Wilbur wasn't here, Tommy knew that but it felt good to be here. He could talk to his brother like the good old days about the things he needed to get off his chest, something he couldn't do with his brother's naive ghost. 

"I might die tomorrow," his voice echoed, carrying throughout the empty walls. "Me and Tubbo are fighting Dream and we might die tomorrow." 

He felt his face flush warm, tears welling up before rubbing furiously at them. He held back, taking a deep and shaky breath before continuing, "I'm not going to lie, I'm fucking terrified. This isn't like before or the war against L'Manberg or the time after that because if this goes wrong, that's it for us and I don't think I'm ready to die." 

Tommy took another drag, watching the smoke as he breathed out. He remembered how Wilbur used to be able to do smoke rings, something Tommy had never been able to replicate. 

"Connor gave us your crossbow today too," Tommy paused, feeling his body hunch over itself as he sniffed, "I hope we do you proud, Wil, I miss you so much. I just wish you were here." 

There was only so much Tommy could hold back though, burying the heels of his hands into his eyes. He hadn't cried during the many wars or during his time alone in exile as much as he wanted to but right here, right now, in the last place he'd seen Wilbur alive the eve before the final battle against Dream, Tommy broke. 

He didn't even hear the footsteps approaching him until a concerned voice called out to him, one that sent chills down his spine. 

"Tommy?" 

Looking up, Tommy saw Phil standing there with a look of concern for his youngest. Tommy rubbed away the tears, hissing when hot ash fell from his cigarette. 

"Tommy, are you--" Phil glanced at the cigarette that had fallen at Tommy's feet as he stepped through the rubble, "Are you _smoking_?" 

"What of it, old man?" Tommy narrowed his eyes, stumbling backwards to put some distance between himself and Phil as the man approached. "Don't you have other places to blow up? Other kids to kill or abandon?" 

Phil flinched, drawing his hand back to his chest, "I didn't-- Tommy, I know you're upset but I had to teach everyone a lesson so what happened with Wilbur wouldn't happen again, I can't have history repeat itself." 

"What lesson did you actually think you were teaching anyone, _Phil_?" Tommy snarled, voice cutting and sharp compared to the soft whispers of Phil's own voice. "If you knew anything, you'd realise how psychotic you sound, fucking hell, teach us a lesson?"

Tommy was _pissed_ , Phil was just walking around as if he didn't just blow up the nation that Wilbur built and going on about history repeating itself as if he didn't have a part to play in this. As if he was some righteous man with the moral high ground, as if things wouldn't have been different if Phil was there for them like he should have been. 

"We're _kids_ , Phil!" Tommy screamed, he didn't care who might overhear them. If anything, he wanted the world to know what he thought of his _dad_ , "I'm supposed to be _your_ kid!" 

"You are," Phil tried, taking a step closer to Tommy with his hand outstretched. "You're my son and I'm your father so please just listen to me--" 

"Why don't you listen to _me_ for once?" Tommy put distance between them, smacking away Phil's hand as the man reached to comfort him. "I may be your son but you're no father of mine; Wilbur was more of a dad than you could ever hope to be, he loved me and cared for me and now he's gone!" 

Halting, Phil let his arm fall to his side as he stared back at Tommy. There was hurt in Phil's eyes, something rare he saw in his father. Maybe it was so rare because he was just never around for him, not the way Phil had been around for Wilbur and not the way Phil stuck around for Techno. 

"He's gone," Tommy felt his body tremble, clutching at his arms to cradle himself as the adrenaline began to wear off, "He's gone and you're still here, it just isn't fair. You've never been here for me. You don't care about me the way you care about _him._ " 

Fingers trailing down his arms, reaching shakily for another cigarette. Neither of them dared to move for a second, a mere fire away from burning their bridges. 

Tommy was ready to burn everything to the ground, "I don't need you; I've never needed you, Phil." 

* * *

"Phil?" Techno called, peering through the ruins of L'Manberg to find the man sat amongst the rubble hunched over. "Phil, I've been looking for you everywhere, what are you doing here?" 

Phil took a quivering breath, his whole body trembling but if it was from the cold or from the terrible realisation that had dawned on him, Techno couldn't be sure. 

"I've lost them both, Techno..." Phil murmured, looking up through strands of golden hair, "I lost both of my boys and it's all my fault." 

The piglin tensed with discomfort at the delicate situation he'd found himself in before offering a hand to his friend, "Come on, let's get you home."

All that was left was a burnt bridge and Phil watching from the other side as Tommy slipped through his fingers; He'd already lost one son, what was one more? 


End file.
